


Return

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Cain sucks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Cain and Abel fight, Cain leaves and Abel calls on Deimos for some comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Eli for betaing! <3

Ethan tried not to remember how much time had passed. But the truth was he could count the weeks, the days, could even remember how many hours it had been since Cain left. The harder he tried to block it out, the more he caught himself checking the calendar, the clock, thinking to himself:  _One week, three days, fourteen hours_.

One night he unearthed a t-shirt that wasn't his wedged at the back of one dresser drawers. Ethan swallowed and carefully extracted the shirt, licking his dry lips. He slipped it on and forgot that he had been looking for something else as he curled up in bed, breathing in the smell of Cain that still clung to the thin fabric. He picked up the phone while his eyes found the clock:  _Two weeks, four days, two hours._ There was one quick ring and then an automated voice. He almost hung up, left a message instead. At two weeks, six days, three hours, he was in bed wearing Cain's old shirt again, and he'd already forgotten the message he left.

Ethan didn't call Cain, too certain he wouldn't answer, too worried about what he'd say if he did. He just let Cain's last words fill up the silence between them, echoing in the empty spaces between where Ethan stayed and where Cain had gone—wherever Cain had gone.

#

It was late when Ethan heard the knock on the door. He glanced up from his spot sinking deeper into the couch cushions and then jerked to his feet. He got to the door a second before the person knocked again. He already began to smile as the door opened, couldn't quite stop it from sliding off his face when Ethan saw that it wasn't Cain.

"Deimos." He stepped back to let him through, closing and locking the door after him. He swallowed over the lump in his throat as Deimos moved to the center of the room, slipping the black beanie off his head as he did so and letting it drop to the coffee table, small white flecks of snow already melting off of it.

"I called you last week," Ethan said, couldn't keep the accusatory tone from his voice

Deimos just glanced at him as he sank onto the couch and began to unlace his boots, more snow melting into Ethan's carpet and falling from Deimos' shoulders as he leaned forward. Ethan sat down beside him on the couch, pulling the thick blanket back around his shoulders and watching him. Eventually Deimos slipped off his jacket and sat back, tilting his head to the side to let his hair fall out of his eyes as he looked at Ethan.

"Sorry," he rasped, nothing more than that as his lips pressed together again.

Ethan shrugged, curled forward over his knees and wished he'd showered in the past few days, or wished Deimos would have dropped him a message to let him know that he had decided to drop by after all. He startled when Deimos put a hand on his arm, suddenly right beside Ethan on the couch even when he hadn't heard him move over.

Deimos hummed, maybe gearing up to say something, but Ethan just shook his head, suddenly didn't want any explanations or for anything more than Deimos' warm presence beside him. His hand lifted from Ethan's arm, suddenly brushing a piece of hair back from his forehead. Ethan leaned away, blushing at Deimos touching his greasy hair, but Deimos just leaned with him, petted the back of Ethan's head, fingers curling against the back of his neck and then reaching up to rub at the crown of his head again.

"I want him to come back," Ethan said, not sure what made him say it, too comfortable with Deimos' hand in his hair, with a warm body pressed up against his side after so long.

Deimos' hand hesitated, then pulled away. Ethan looked at him, waiting for judgment or for him to break his silence, but Deimos just scooted back until he was leaning against the arm of the couch, gripped Ethan's wrist and pulled him closer. Ethan went, pulled his blanket with him as he lay down between Deimos straightened legs, resting his cheek against Deimos' narrow chest. He felt Deimos wrap an arm around him, raise the other to brush a thumb across Ethan's cheek, and then trace down his throat.

Ethan swallowed, that lump in his throat still there, clenching a hand in the front of Deimos' shirt and breathing in his smell: clean and fresh from the cold air outside, and then something deeper, sweet and natural.

"I want him to come back," Ethan said again, squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered when Deimos' thumb moved to wipe away the wetness on his cheekbones. He brushed Deimos' hand away, sniffled and swiped at his own face, but Deimos just rubbed his cheek again, tightened his arms and somehow managed to pull Ethan even closer against him.

It was nice to listen to someone's heartbeat, to feel arms around him for the first time in so long, and even if Deimos wasn't Cain, he was still warm and present and understood Ethan almost as well as anyone else. They fell asleep like that, right there on the couch, and when Ethan woke up in the morning, it was to Deimos' cheek against his forehead, breathing softly into Ethan's hair.

Ethan sat up, broke easily out of Deimos' slackened hold and struggled off the couch. Deimos frowned slightly, curling into the cushions, and Ethan took the blanket from around his shoulders and draped it over Deimos instead. He walked to the kitchen, eyeing the clock on the stove and doing the math before he'd thought about it:  _three weeks, two days, twelve hours._  He glanced away, putting a kettle on the stove for tea and then sank down into a chair at the table, wondering, not for the first time, where Cain was and what he was doing.

Ethan had wondered if maybe Cain had gone to Deimos when he left. He knew that they were close—closer than Cain would ever admit to, even if it was obvious—but Deimos was here now and Cain wasn't, and Ethan didn't want to believe that Deimos had left Cain to come here and comfort him.

Deimos woke when the kettle whistled, rustling on the couch and then padding into the kitchen. He started brewing coffee while Ethan waited for his tea to steep, and then they both sat next to each other at the table; their knees pressed together.

Ethan could only be silent for a moment before he couldn't take it anymore, said, "Have you seen him?"

Deimos took a sip of his coffee and then glanced at Ethan, shaking his head. Ethan sighed and wrapped both hands around his warm mug, believing Deimos because he didn't have an option otherwise, thinking that Deimos had always been more honest with him than Cain had anyway.

"Do you want to talk?" Deimos asked, voice so quiet and sincere, gaze soft when he looked at Ethan over his mug.

Ethan swallowed, shook his head, took a quick sip of his tea and scalded his tongue. He set the cup down. "Maybe later."

They spent the day together, mostly in quiet, Ethan obsessively scrubbing down the apartment until Deimos made him stop; sat Ethan down at the kitchen table with a bottle of wine while he made dinner. Something foreign, using ingredients Ethan didn't know they had, but Ethan ate it anyway, thinking that he hadn't had such good cooking since Cain left, thinking how similar the meal was to ones he'd had with Cain, and still how different it felt.

It felt nice, in a way, to be able to sit with someone who didn't expect anything of him. With Cain, toward the end, everything had been mean; every comment meant something else with Cain saying them all as though Ethan were supposed to divine some hidden meaning. Sometimes when Ethan thought about how Cain had left he felt relief; relief that Cain had finally dropped Ethan when he was so obviously unhappy, relief that Ethan didn't have to sit around and watch Cain be unhappy with him anymore.

The next few days were more of the same, interspersed with Ethan going to work and coming home to more of Deimos' cooking and quiet comfort. Occasionally he would ask Ethan about safe topics, questions about his job or his friends, but mostly they would just sit together on the couch until it was late enough that they found their way to the bedroom.

At night when they fucked, it was always a toss-up as to whether it would be harder or easier to remember Cain; sometimes Ethan was so lost in the feelings that nothing else mattered but Deimos, otherwise he analyzed every slight move Deimos made; his taste and smell and brush of hair and Ethan couldn't stop thinking about how different he was. Deimos never said anything either way. On the good nights, he lay with Ethan and wrapped around him, tangling their legs together, and on the bad nights he kissed his cheeks and petted his hair and didn't say anything.

Sometimes when Ethan got back from work at night Deimos would be gone—always leaving a note on the fridge, or the bed, or the coffee table that said:  _Be back soon_. Sometimes 'soon' meant the next day; slipping in the front door with the spare key under the mat. Sometimes it meant a few days later when Ethan would suddenly feel the bed dip in the middle of the night and feel a brief moment of panic…and an even briefer moment of hope when he thought it might be Cain. Then he'd feel Deimos' arm snake around him, lips brushing Ethan's shoulder and sighing against the back of his neck, and Ethan would remember that Cain had left.

Eventually, Ethan stopped keeping track of how long Cain had been gone. The longer Deimos stayed, the more convinced Ethan was, somehow, that Cain would stay away. One night Ethan asked where Deimos went whenever he left, and Deimos had given him a long look without answering. Ethan wondered if Deimos was embarrassed, or hiding something, and he felt the same bit of unease he used to feel with Cain, when things had all started to go wrong.

Then Deimos got to his feet, led Ethan to the bedroom by twining their fingers and tugging him up from the couch. They were kissing before the bedroom door had fully closed behind them, Ethan dropping onto the bed and pulling Deimos down on top of him, threading fingers through his dark hair, keeping it pinned back from his face when he pulled away to kiss Deimos' neck.

Deimos sighed, rocked himself against Ethan's lap, rolling his hips slower when Ethan nipped at his throat and leaned down to suck at his collarbone, pulling down the neck of his t-shirt. Then Deimos leaned back, broke Ethan's hold on his hair to strip them both of their shirts. He hooked his heels around Ethan's thighs and leaned forward, forcing Ethan onto his back with Deimos leaning over him, hands pressing Ethan's wrists into the bedspread.

Ethan pushed up, just a little, felt himself shudder and grow harder at the feeling of being held down with Deimos' weight on top of him. He swallowed in the moment that Deimos' lips twitched up, dark fall of hair brushing against Ethan's face when Deimos kissed him. Ethan moaned, opened his mouth and pressed back as much as he could, furling his tongue against Deimos' and tasting him. Deimos' fingers tightened around Ethan's wrists, hips shifting until he was grinding slow against Ethan; their cocks rubbing together through the press of fabric.

Ethan turned his head, tried to open his legs wider but found he couldn't with Deimos still wrapped around him so tightly. He sucked in a breath as Deimos trailed his lips along Ethan's cheek and down his neck. His tongue swirled hotly in the hollow at the base of his throat and Ethan felt his cock twitch, his cheeks flaming.

"Deimos—"

Deimos pulled back, smiling and pink-cheeked, and Ethan felt his stomach tighten, always so taken aback when Deimos looked like that. He was so used to seeing him stony-faced and unapproachable on the Sleipnir and even afterwards—the times when he'd come by to visit him and Cain he still kept his distance. Even when the three of them had been together,  _done_  things together, it was never like this…Deimos never looked so happy.

Ethan struggled against Deimos' hands and immediately he was free, Deimos sitting back against Ethan's thighs, his smile slipping a little. Ethan sat up after him, pushed Deimos' hair back from his face and cupped a palm around his overheated cheek. Then they were kissing again, only a quick press of lips and hot breath before Deimos broke away to lean up on his knees and push down his pants.

Ethan's hand fell to Deimos' cock the moment it was free, wrapping his palm around the length and tugging up. Deimos laughed; breathless and short before he pulled away from Ethan's grip to move down the bed, taking Ethan's pants with him and kissing the hollow of his hip. Ethan's breath caught and he leaned up on the elbows to watch Deimos hold his cock gently with his fingers, skimming his lips up the side. His pale eyes flashed up to watch Ethan's face as he pursed his lips around the tip and sucked, tongue rolling against the slit.

The noise Ethan made at that was something choked and needy, his hips jerking upward without his volition. Deimos hummed around him, unperturbed, but too soon he pulled away, left Ethan on the bed to grab the little bottle on the bedside table. He climbed back onto the bed and threw a leg over Ethan's, settling against his thighs again.

"What do you want?" Ethan asked, taking the bottle that Deimos offered and hesitantly slicking his fingers, watching Deimos' face.

Deimos nodded, widened his thighs, and Ethan kissed him at the same moment that he pushed two fingers into him, feeling Deimos gasp against his mouth. Ethan thought he knew what Deimos wanted, thought he knew the plan, then suddenly Deimos pushed him flat against the bed again, pushed Ethan's legs open with his knees and pressed his fingers inside him. Ethan arched his back at the unexpected feeling, moaned into Deimos' mouth—louder than he'd meant to, and wondered if that was the reaction Deimos had been waiting for when Ethan felt Deimos' cock harden against his hip.

Then Deimos rearranged them, disengaging from Ethan to lie back on the bed and pull Ethan down on top of him. He was pushing back into Ethan in the next minute; fingers inside him and tongue in his mouth, and Ethan could barely concentrate on returning the favor before Deimos had gripped both their cocks in his free hand.

"Deimos," Ethan moaned, breaking away to press his lips against Deimos' throat, pushing back against Deimos' hand and moaning again when Deimos got the hint and pressed his fingers in harder, curling inside him.

Ethan could barely focus on making Deimos feel good and touching him the way he liked with Deimos inside him and around him, fucking Ethan with his fingers and his tongue when Ethan moved up to kiss him again. He was so close within minutes, whole body overheated and shaky, thriving on Deimos' quiet moans and gasps when Ethan pushed his fingers in just right.

When the knock on the door came, Ethan ignored it, wasn't sure if he had just imagined it and unwilling to break away if he had. He groaned when it sounded again, pulled away from Deimos even when Deimos mumbled, "No, don't," against his mouth and raised a hand from their cocks to grab Ethan's arm.

"Sorry," Ethan breathed, kissed him again and almost forgot he was leaving with Deimos' fingers slipping in and out of him faster.

Then the knocking grew to pounding and Ethan broke away again, pulled his fingers from Deimos body at the same time that Deimos pulled out of him. He frowned as Ethan stumbled off the bed, watched and stroked himself slowly as Ethan found his sweatpants and hurriedly put them on. He tore his gaze away from Deimos on the bed and hurried to the front door.

He was so distracted picturing Deimos back in his bedroom and touching himself that Ethan opened the door without checking the peephole, without even thinking about how late it was. He froze when he saw who was on the other side, could feel more heat rushing into his cheeks. "Cain."

Cain brushed past him into the apartment, scowling and not looking at Ethan. He strode toward the couch and then turned without sitting down, stripping off his jacket and looking around. Ethan closed the door, locking it hesitantly, keeping his eyes on Cain even when Cain wouldn't return the favor. He wanted to say something, to break the silence because Cain was there after so long, but couldn't seem to get any words past his throat.

He just waited, breath coming quicker with Cain right here, back in the apartment, looking dark and windblown and handsome as ever. "Wh—" Ethan broke off when Cain suddenly looked at him, gaze sharp. "What're you doing here?" He wondered briefly what Cain had done with his key before deciding he didn't want to know.

Cain was quiet for a long time, just looking at Ethan's face. Finally, he said, "My stuff."

Ethan's stomach dropped. Two months of no contact and finally Cain had deigned to return for his things. He nodded. "Right—well, it's kind of late—"

"Won't take long," Cain said.

"Oh." Then suddenly Cain was walking toward him, and Ethan stepped back, out of his way, wrapping an arm across his torso.

Cain had just reached him when suddenly Ethan looked up, realized he was heading to the bedroom. "Oh, but—wait—" He reached out without thinking, grabbing Cain's wrist. Almost at once, the muscles hardened under his fingers, and Ethan startled; glanced down and saw that Cain's hand had folded into a fist.

Ethan drew his hand back, watching Cain slowly relax again, felt a lump grown in his throat at the knowledge that Cain couldn't even bear to have Ethan touch him anymore. He gritted his teeth and wrapped both arms around himself again, keeping his gaze lowered to Cain's torso.

"There's someone in there," he managed to say, couldn't even take pleasure in telling Cain that  _someone_  wanted him when he was so distracted knowing that Cain didn't.

Cain didn't say anything for a long moment. Ethan tried to keep himself together as he watched Cain sway forward and then fall back to his heels. "Well, that didn't take long," Cain finally sneered.

Ethan glanced up, sudden flash of anger overcoming the pain of rejection as he glared at Cain. "What do you care?" he managed, unprepared when Cain stepped toward him and grabbed Ethan's chin, rough hand tilting his head to the side. Ethan realized too late that Cain was scrutinizing the marks on his neck and he turned his face out of Cain's grasp, glaring.

Cain's hand fell back to his side as his jaw squared. He looked away from Ethan and turned toward the bedroom again. Ethan reached out to grip his arm again but Cain shook him off, opening the bedroom door with Ethan hovering just at his shoulder. Cain snorted as soon as he flipped on the light. Ethan entered the room just after him, glancing toward the bed where Deimos was sitting cross-legged in the center, his fleece pajama bottoms back on.

"Should've known," Cain muttered, walking straight to the closet and beginning to dig around.

Ethan just watched, his stomach tight and uncomfortable at the sight of Cain's tense shoulders as he pulled down a backpack from the top shelf and started to pack it full of his abandoned things. The room was quiet apart from Cain's rustling, and Ethan startled when Deimos was suddenly right beside him, sliding warm fingers around Ethan's wrist. Ethan sucked in a breath and glanced at Deimos, who was pinning him with a hard look; maybe upset with the way his mouth turned down just barely at the corners.

Then Cain swung around and Ethan broke away from Deimos as fast as though he'd been scorched even though Cain didn't even look at them as he left the room again, even though Cain clearly didn't care about anything Ethan did anymore. He followed Cain into the main room, felt stupid for trailing after Cain like a puppy, but didn't want to pass up the chance to look at him for a little longer. Now that Cain had his things, there'd be no reason for him to stick around.

So Ethan followed him, surprised when Cain dropped the backpack to the floor and slumped onto the couch, crossing his arms across his chest. He looked up when Ethan entered, smirking at once. "Deimos?" he asked. "You're really slumming it."

"Nicer to me than you ever were," Ethan said, and it was only partly true when they were too different to compare—Cain's brand of niceness completely different from Deimos'.

Cain just snorted, bounced his foot up and down and cast a look around the room, his lip curling. "You didn't like me when I was nice, anyway."

Ethan frowned, said, "That's not true," before he thought about it, bit his lip afterward and wished he'd just stayed quiet.

Cain only shrugged, leg bouncing faster. Then he stopped, sat up straighter and braced his hands on his knees. He shot Ethan a hard look. "Sure didn't take long for you to hop on someone else's dick. But then again, you always were a slut."

"Guess that's why you got tired of me," Ethan said, and it felt cathartic to get it off his chest, to repeat back to Cain the last thing he'd said to Ethan before he left—the thing Ethan had heard rolling around in his mind in the months afterward.

A muscle jumped in Cain's jaw when he pressed his lips together. He stood up and Ethan thought that was it, that Cain would finally take his things and leave. But when Cain walked toward him, he left his bag lying untouched on the floor. Ethan pressed back against the wall, remembering all their time together as Cain got closer, remembering how bad things had been at the end before Cain had told him that he couldn't keep it up anymore, that he was tired of Ethan and the life they'd built together.

He just looked at Ethan for a long moment, eyes on his lips, and Ethan thought that Cain was looking at the faint scar there just like Ethan sometimes found himself doing whenever he caught sight of his reflection. It was almost gone, just barely noticeable if you weren't looking for it, and Ethan wondered if maybe Cain preferred it that way; everything about the two of them faded away now—nothing tying them together.

"Is this it then?" Ethan asked, and Cain's gaze rose to meet Ethan's. It was difficult being so close to him after so long, everything about him so strong and handsome and potent, and even after everything Ethan had to stop himself from reaching out and bringing him closer.

Cain shrugged, straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't move away, though, just stayed planted right in front of Ethan. Ethan wondered if he was waiting for something, took a breath and tried not to think about how stupid he was going to sound, but he had to tell Cain what he was thinking—couldn't afford not to if this really was it with them.

Ethan fidgeted, looked away from Cain and then back, finally just came out with it and asked, "Why'd you leave?"

Cain swayed back a step. "Told you," he grunted, looking toward the bedroom and away from Ethan. "Got bored."

Ethan tried to not let that hurt, tried to keep his voice even as he said, "But before—I mean right after we were discharged—"

"Yeah, well shit changes," Cain snapped, glaring at him again suddenly. Ethan opened his mouth, frowning and about to say more, but Cain rolled right over him. "It's not like I fucking signed up for this when I joined up."

"For what?" Ethan asked, blinking.

"This," Cain said, opening his arms to gesture at the apartment at large.  _"You,"_  he said after that, arms falling back to his sides.

Ethan's mouth went dry. "I never made you come with me," he said. "I never  _made_ you do anything—you could have left after we were discharged, I never asked—"

"Fuck, Abel." Cain moved back, fell back to the couch. Ethan followed right after him, too bent on getting more answers to let Cain move away and shut him out…again.

"What?" Ethan asked, sitting down next to him on the couch, putting a hand on Cain's arm.

Cain shook him off. "I couldn't fucking do this anymore—all this bullshit, being all shacked up and _together_  and—"

"Then why didn't you just go after we left?" Ethan asked, voice sharp because it had been months since they'd left the military—months when he thought they'd been fine, happy even, but here was Cain telling him that not even that was good; that he had been feeling this long before he ever said anything.

"I didn't  _want_ to," Cain said, leg bouncing up and down again, not meeting Ethan's gaze. "I didn't have anywhere else to fucking  _go_ —"

"So I was just a last resort all along," Ethan muttered, didn't have a chance to stand up with Cain's hand suddenly on his knee and keeping him in place.

"No, Abel. Fuck, I didn't want you to leave without me, but I didn't fucking want this either."

"Then  _what_?" Ethan asked, put a hand over Cain's and squeezed his fingers. "What, Cain? What do you—"

"I want it to be like how it was."

Ethan paused, tried to understand. "Like—"

"On the ship," Cain said, slipped his hand out from under Ethan's and leaned forward over his knees. "Before we got back."

"Back to the Sleipnir?" he asked. "Back to the war?"

"Back to it not being so fucking  _gay_ ," Cain snapped.

Ethan's heart dropped. He leaned away slowly, surveying the side of Cain's head and trying to find something to say even through the shame. "What?"

"You heard me."

"How—when—" Ethan floundered for a moment, then paused and took a breath. "Which part was too  _gay_  for you?" he asked, found suddenly that he was more angry than mortified with the feeling of Cain putting the blame on him. "We were still fucking on the Sleipnir."

Cain didn't look at him. "It was different."

"No, it wasn't!" Ethan said, grabbed Cain's arm when it looked like he was about to get up. Cain tried to stand anyway, gritting his teeth and pushing Ethan away until finally Ethan gripped him by the front of his shirt and hauled him back down again. "Just because we're off the ship—just because now you can't pretend it isn't  _real_ —"

Cain snorted and tried to untangle himself, but Ethan held tight to Cain's shirt and kept them face-to-face. "Shut up,  _Ethan_ ," Cain said, and it reminded Ethan so much of how things used to be, of Cain constantly pulling away from him right before he left, that Ethan almost let go again—almost let Cain jerk out of reach.

He tightened his hold instead, knuckles aching where they were clenched around the front of Cain's shirt. "Don't," he said, sat up a little straighter on the couch and tried to get Cain to look at him. "What's the matter? Why—" He stopped, swallowed. "Nothing's changed, Cain," he said instead, lifting one hand away from Cain's shirt to brush through the dark hair at his temple.

Cain's lip curled, his eyes still fixed on a point somewhere near Ethan's knee, but he didn't pull away. "You don't even know," he muttered, then pressed his lips together and hesitated.

"Know what?"

Cain looked up suddenly, dark eyes finding Ethan's. "All the shit I've put up with," he said.

"What?" Ethan asked, frowning. "What're you talking about?

Cain snarled, closed a hand around Ethan's and squeezed until Ethan gasped and let go of him. He stood up right after, taking a few steps back and looking at Ethan still on the couch. "You don't even fucking  _see_  it," he said, voice low and sharp and full of venom. "The looks that we get—the way—" He took a breath. "The way people talk to us…." He didn't go on.

Ethan thought he understood what Cain meant anyway. Cain was always so much more wary of everyone and everything; scared of what was being said about them behind their backs, and what that might mean for them. Ethan wondered if it was still left over from being a fighter, from constantly looking for attacks and ways to neutralize them, or if it was just…Cain.

"So what?" Ethan asked, stood up slowly and walked toward Cain.

Cain sneered. "So you don't care that everyone thinks we're fa—"

Ethan was in front of Cain then, put a hand over his mouth to cut him off. Cain scowled, kept his mouth open so his breath bloomed hot across Ethan's palm, but he didn't try to speak. Ethan swallowed and shifted his hand back slowly to uncover Cain's mouth. Cain stayed silent, just watching Ethan with his eyebrows drawn in and a dark expression.

He still didn't talk when Ethan wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and applied pressure, forcing Cain to lean toward him. There was no noise, nothing else except Cain right in front of him and so close, still looking dark and broody and resentful as Ethan pulled him closer. Cain went, and some small part of Ethan was surprised that he wasn't putting up a fight, that he seemed fine now to get close to Ethan even after everything he'd said. The rest of Ethan was busy feeling Cain's breath against his lips, busy thinking about how long it'd been since they'd done this and aching for it.

Then Cain tipped the balance, pushing back the rest of the way until they were kissing, and Ethan remembered how easy Cain was to distract, realized Cain hadn't changed as much as he'd led Ethan to believe. It felt as though no time had passed. Cain tasted the same, kissed the same, as he ever did; hard and rough and with an edge of desperation. He grabbed at Ethan's waist and pulled him even closer, eventually guiding them both toward the bedroom, both of them trying to get Cain as undressed as possible before they got there.

Ethan remembered Deimos as soon as the door opened and he and Cain broke apart. Deimos was off the bed and already searching for the rest of his clothes, just barely glancing up when Cain and Ethan entered. Ethan glanced between the two of them, wanted Deimos to stay, but didn't know how much Cain could take tonight—didn't want to run the risk of him leaving again.

Cain just smirked, not as broad as the one Ethan remembered, but still evident, striding toward Deimos and pushing the clothes out of his hands and onto the floor. Cain kissed him in the next moment, both hands around Deimos' face and tilting it up. Ethan watched Deimos shudder and put his arms around Cain's shoulders, leaning into him as Cain's hands fell to Deimos' pants and started to push them down.

Ethan heard Deimos gasp, watched the arms around Cain's neck flex and tighten. Then Ethan was right at Cain's back, reaching around him to undo the fly to his pants and push it down. Cain broke away at that, helped Ethan rid him of the rest of his clothes until they were all naked. Ethan let Cain dictate the way things would be, more than surprised when Cain ended up between him and Deimos, pushing Deimos onto his back and sucking his cock, at the same time pushing back against Ethan until Ethan got the hint.

He draped himself over Cain's back and fucked him slow, tried to make it good instead of wonder why Cain wanted this from him—just accepted that it was what he needed. Deimos finished first, coming into Cain's mouth and stroking his hair, mouth open wide even when no sound came out. Cain leaned up on his knees afterward, let Ethan wrap both hands around him and fuck him deep, kissing his neck while Deimos sucked his cock.

It was quick after that, Cain coming only seconds before Ethan, groaning low and then waiting for Deimos and Ethan both to pull away before slumping face-down onto the mattress. Ethan lay down beside him, touching his shoulder and hoping that Cain wouldn't go back to pushing him away—that he would at least stay the night, maybe stay long enough in the morning for Ethan to convince him to stay for good.

Cain didn't look at him, kept his eyes closed and face pressed into the pillow, but he didn't make any attempt to move away from Ethan's touch either. Ethan just pressed up closer to his side and brushed back the hair at his temple, listening as his breath slowly evened out. He only realized that Deimos was leaving when the bedroom door creaked. Ethan glanced around, watched Deimos slip out the door and hurried to catch him, pulling on a pair of pants just as he caught up to Deimos in the entryway.

"You don't have to go," Ethan said, didn't know for sure that Deimos wasn't just leaving for one of his mysterious outings, but this felt different—Deimos wearing the exact same clothes he'd worn when he arrived on Ethan's doorstep months ago.

Deimos just shrugged, pulled on his black hat on and turned to the door.

Ethan reached out and gripped his shoulder, said, "Deimos…"

Deimos turned around, face inscrutable, just seemed to be waiting for Ethan to go on.

Ethan didn't have anything else to say, though, figured that distraction had worked once that night and wondered it if would work again. Deimos kept it short when Ethan kissed him, pulling back before Ethan was ready to let him go. Then he smiled, and Ethan tried to pull him in again, but Deimos just moved away, his hand on the doorknob.

Ethan opened his mouth, didn't know what to say when Deimos broke the silence. "Be back soon."

He slipped out the door just as Ethan nodded slowly, wondering—as always—when soon would be, wondering, as he walked back to the bedroom and sat down beside Cain, if Cain would still be there whenever soon came.


End file.
